


I Only Have Eyes For You

by nikkixsensei



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-07-25
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:00:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25503295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkixsensei/pseuds/nikkixsensei
Summary: A rewrite of 2x19 - "I Only Have Eyes For You". What if Spike was summoned instead of Angel?
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Kudos: 27





	I Only Have Eyes For You

The cool lips caressing her own was the first sensation registering in Buffy's mind as James's spirit evaporated from her body. Her heart swelled in anticipation.

Gradually opening her eyes, she found a pair of ocean blue depths staring back at her and flinched momentarily as confusion placated her anger, a feeling that she had been violated. Her body betrayed all thoughts that, somehow, she was betraying Angel.

She didn't consider or even dare attempt pulling away.

Lowering her hands, Buffy gripped his upper arms tightly, marveling at the bicep musculature, and studied the elegant, sharp planes of his cheekbones.

Her eyes fell to the small hole just under his heart marring the worn but still magnificent leather garment, her mind continuing to process what it felt like to have a metallic object kick back against her wrist, the tension coursing through her body as a bullet echoed in the night, shattering the quiet.

Returning her eyes to his face, she found Spike watching her intently and frowned.

There was something different about him, something familiar, raw, and human. There was a safety in his embrace, a comfort she hadn't experienced or felt in weeks that illuminated the landscape, lifting the tall shadows blanketing her world.

A single question continued to echo in her mind.

"Why?"

"Was going to ask you the same thing, pet," Spike paused, appraising the room before returning his eyes to Buffy, resting his hands lightly on her waist, and closing his eyes briefly to absorb the feel of her heavy breaths assaulting his face.

Being this close to her tantalized him, small shocks traveling along every nerve ending in his body, as a dull but persistent ache crept up his spine.

"No, I meant you. What are _you_ doing here?"

"Wait, I'm the problem? Last time I checked, getting hijacked by a pair of guilty spirits and re-enacting a lover's quarrel with you weren't on my list of fancies. I'd venture to say that neither of us is in a predicament we wish to be."

The look of appall on her face mirrored what he felt. They were both unwilling pawns.

Why would any spirit or force see fit to draw the two of them together for anything other than fisticuffs? Combat was their art, their specialty; since he'd been confined to a wheelchair, an intense desire to face the petite slayer again fueled the recovery process.

Now, given the chance, why didn't he crave a decent brawl?

More importantly, why didn't she?

Her voice detracted him from his thoughts. "I don't get it. Spirits usually attract and possess people who best identify with whatever it was they were dealing with at the time."

Spike arched his eyebrow. "What's your point?"

Buffy continued shaking her head, frantic.

"Grace…She was in pain, suffering, and facing the most difficult decision of her life. She'd have to hurt the one person she loved most, break his heart, to save her teaching position and avoid being cast out. You have no idea what any of that's like, to love someone so much that you can't imagine life without them coupled by the pain of having to give it all up because there are rules saying that you can't have love, that being happy makes you less responsible somehow…"

She trailed off, dipping her head to clear images of the one night she and Angel spent together. Absentmindedly, she tightened her hold on Spike's arms as tears welled in her eyes.

"You couldn't possibly understand how that feels."

"Sure you aren't just saying that because your sweetie bear isn't here?" Spike challenged, watching Buffy clench her jaw, smiling at her attempt to disguise her inner turmoil.

"Don't bring him into this. You don't know anything about Angel or what we have."

"Is that right? I realize you aren't asking me, but, if you were, I'd tell you three things. First, the soul's given too much stock. Second, you're neglecting the past tense because you and Angel don't have anything anymore. Third, I've had the pleasure of being his childe for the better part of a century so it's more than fair to say I know the bloke much better than you do."

Her attention piqued at Spike's observation which, gauging by the smirk on his face, had been the desired effect. _His childe_. Angel had offered an abridged summary detailing how he had chosen Drusilla, systematically killed the people she loved before offering her immortality.

Spike's name hadn't entered their conversation once.

Exacerbating her confusion was Spike's seemingly intimate knowledge and understanding of her, his ability to see through her as if she was a sheet of glass and manipulate her to his liking.

"I know what slayers are taught to believe and assume as fact about vampires, but let me tell you. While being reborn into immortality affects some differently than others, what remains constant is that abandoning all that made you human, surrendering to the demon inside, is a choice."

Spike was suddenly enraptured by the hazel depths of her eyes, watching the dim light of the room play across her face, accentuating emotions that otherwise would be concealed.

"Dying improved me, I realize that now. As a human, living was something I pretended to do, and I think that's where your fear stems from- that the Angel you see now is who he has always been, that all you enjoyed before was a carefully crafted illusion. It's facing that truth that terrifies you so."

"No, you're wrong. Stop," Buffy implored, desperately trying to jerk free from his touch to no avail as he pulled her back in. "Please stop."

She didn't want to hear or accept that.

She couldn't.

"Angelus has been clawing his way back to the earth for the past century, searching for a way to escape the mask he was forced to wear courtesy of the bloody Gypsies, until _you_ drew him out."

He punctuated every word, keeping his tone even and without malice. For a moment, he regretted doing so when Buffy looked up at him with tears running freely down her face.

Spike never saw her hand clench.

Buffy clipped his jaw with a right cross, sending him stumbling backward into one of the desks. She brushed the errant tears from her face before wrapping her arms around herself, yet another poor attempt to alleviate the sense of loss filling her.

Clenching the desk's edge with his left hand, Spike raised the back of his right hand to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth before bringing himself to an upright position, a smile teasing, as he turned toward her.

"Think that's going to solve your problems?" He pointed to her fists. "Stones and more spots of violence won't do the trick, love. That's just the type of thing Angelus feeds off, but, then again, you already know that, don't you?"

"Why are you doing this to me?"

It was one thing to discuss this with Willow or Giles, but to be exposed by Spike was an entirely different ordeal.

Out of everyone in her small circle of friends, she could never confide in Xander because he'd be least sympathetic to her plight. From the moment they'd met, he was open about being anti-vampire in every sense. Equally transparent was how supportive Cordelia was of him, how much she respected his position, a simple truth that contrasted her self-involved demeanor.

In either case, Buffy could never imagine broaching the subject with the brunette.

"You think I'm enjoying this?"

"Prove me wrong. I'd thought you would be happy, that you'd celebrate Angelus's return, since he's helping you and your depraved girlfriend terrorize not only my town but also me personally."

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Not everything should be taken at face value."

"What? Now you're taking offense at my observation of Drusilla after you condemned me, what Angel and I had? What gives you the right to poke fun at my expense?"

"It's not just about you! As much as I hate you, she…other things matters more."

It wasn't the pain in his voice that caught her off guard, but it was the brief flash of amber in his eyes that did her in. She didn't feel pleased or as if she had accomplished anything; overriding both was empathy - it was comparable to staring down the barrel of a loaded gun. Averting the blow was impossible as his reply continued to wash over her, despair curling off him in waves.

Turning away, Spike sank gingerly into one of the desks, the one he'd used for leverage before, and stared at the even surface for a long moment. He raised his eyes to hers briefly before looking away, taking a long swallow.

"Spend more than one hundred years with someone, and you give them all you have. You can devote every day to making them happy, open your heart in ways you couldn't even imagine, take comfort in a belief that nothing could ever change - everything's as it should be. But then, he comes back and takes it all away. One look into Dru's eyes, and I knew that she was gone, no longer mine. It makes me wonder if she was ever mine to begin with, if she pretended to love and need me while pining for him all along …"

He broke, unable to continue, and slumped forward, letting his chin fall to his chest.

Buffy felt the familiar pain in her chest renew. The desire to flee, to wake up from what had to be a nightmare, was overwhelming, palpable. Instead, her feet were transfixed as she stood with her mouth agape, unable to formulate a single rational thought, as her nerves frayed.

The possibility of a reunion with Angel, her Angel, diminished with every passing day, but somewhere beyond the dark depths was an illumination, a guiding light. If she focused hard enough, she could feel a ghost of his embrace surrounding her, pulling her away from where she perched on the edge of the cliff and stared down at the watery abyss below.

Observing the waves as they lapped over the rocks, she wondered if the currents were strong enough to keep her under because she didn't want to resurface again. Solid ground offered no remedy or consolation; each step served as a reminder of what she'd lost.

Holding onto memories, no matter how precious, would never be as sweet or as rewarding an experience as creating new ones, the safety of knowing that someone would be there to shoulder the burden on the darkest days.

She'd wanted to give in so many times.

In those moments where hope seemed fleeting, a voice - his voice - would whisper, "You don't want this. There's work to be done. There are people that need you to help them and protect them from the darkness. Your mother, your friends, Giles- they need you to live. I need you to live."

But what if that light vanished?

Taking place of her guardian was a dark corridor spanning unimaginable depths, a site where the only company to be spared were bodies of mist. There was nothing tangible or precious there.

What did she have to look forward to? Her heart was empty. Life didn't mean anything, it didn't weigh anything. Even the sand in the reliable hourglass ceased to pour, settling at the bottom of the pit without any indication of approaching the median crevice ever again when tilted.

Angel and Drusilla touching, stroking, caressing.

Her mind instantly repelled those images, it just couldn't be but one look at Spike and she knew he wasn't pulling her strings. Sitting before her wasn't a mortal enemy, but remnants of the being she feared going up against - a hardened shell like herself.

She'd witnessed his destruction. It was more than his reality; it was _their_ reality now.

Trudging one foot in front of the other, she claimed the vacant seat next to Spike without averting her eyes from his face. His eyes were vacant, deflated, and hollow. Empty. Emotions she knew all too well.

Suddenly, emerging at the end of the dark corridor was a new light bathing the door in diamond-shaped fragments, the mist dissipating. Returning to the past was no longer possible; clinging to memories as well as her friends' support and guidance wasn't what she needed. The black hole replacing her heart could only be healed in the company of someone who truly understood what she was going through, someone enduring an injury similar to hers.

_Someone kindred_.

Extending her right arm outwards, she took Spike's left hand in her right, absorbing the subtle warmth of his flesh, her thoughts again returning to Angel. He was the epitome of perfection, ideal in every possible way. His touch was tender, never rough or ferocious; he was caring, protective, and sensitive.

Only perfection wasn't what she needed.

Perfection was the reward for fairy tale princesses, and she couldn't stake claim to either.

_The Angel you see now is who he has always been,_ _that all you had and enjoyed before was a carefully crafted illusion. It's facing that truth that terrifies you. Angelus has been clawing his way back to the earth for the past century, searching for a way to escape the mask he was forced to wear courtesy of the bloody Gypsies, until you drew him out._

How could she doubt his logic now? Faulty logic couldn't produce this degree of pain.

Buffy stared at their hands for a long moment, hers appearing so small by comparison. She felt his eyes finally lift and focus on her.

"I don't want your pity." Spike immediately regretted the harsh tenor of his voice and cringed. He'd found both her gesture and her touch very comforting. Meeting her eyes again, he was surprised to see a faint smile in them.

"I don't pity you. It's just…I understand."

He searched her face, attempting to discern what she meant. Was it his assessment regarding Angel or vampires' capacity to experience human sentiment, that the demon isn't an automatic reflex, she acknowledged?

It was tempting to ask, but he nodded instead, threading his fingers through hers; his question seemed irrelevant, trivial, in comparison to the one lingering in her eyes.

"What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing." She shook her head ruefully. "You'll just think I'm stupid."

"Come on. We're best friends, right?" Despite the layers of sarcasm in his voice, there was a serious edge to it as well. He was sincere, genuinely interested. "Besides, stupid is the last word I'd use to describe you. Not only are you resourceful, but you're also unique - and I'm not just referring to the slayer bit. It's _you_ , who you are, how you care for and give to the people around you. You're quite the gem, Summers." Spike added, squeezing her hand encouragingly.

She blushed, despite herself.

"I'd thought that the term sire describes the vampire who created you, but, after what you said about being Angel's childe, it's got me re-thinking. Is there something I'm missing?"

The soft laughter emanating from him was refreshing. Being with Spike was too easy, as if neither of them had lost anything but had their lives enhanced - improved - by a chance encounter.

"Allow me to add bright to your list of attributes, love. And yes, you are right about what a sire is. What makes my situation different is that, though Drusilla gave me a new lease on life, Angel helped me put it into use. In that sense, he's my sire also." At her quizzical look, he continued.

"It's a very sexual act, turning someone into a vampire. Sure, you have your lackies here and there but the ultimate goal is to create a mate, a companion for all eternity. Clawing out of a hole in the ground may sound like an ominous start, but that was Dru's way of bringing me into this second life, by introducing me to nature, welcoming me under the stars she loved so much. It shows protectiveness and loyalty. She was the first thing I'd laid eyes on as a vampire - that's how it's supposed to be - before I lost myself to the night and its beauty."

His lips curved into a breathtaking smile. "I remember it vividly: the sky a midnight blue, the crescent moon shining through clouds the color of snow, the wind tossing the leaves on the tall evergreen, cardinals chirping their precious notes. I'd never seen anything so magnificent. I felt free, like a child opening its eyes to the world and truly seeing it for the first time. We walked throughout the night hand in hand."

She'd associated becoming a vampire with being damned, a perspective that being the slayer ultimately demands, but, after listening to Spike and seeing the sparkle in his eye, she surrendered to the romanticism of it all, the idea of immortality being a gift.

"Not too long after, the thirst for human blood was powerful, overwhelming. I craved it, I couldn't see past that…and Dru of course. As a newborn, your vision is skewed; you'd do anything, drink the first person in sight dry to keep your skin from burning. That's when an elder, Angelus in my case, enters the picture. The first thing he taught me was how to hunt. How to survive came after, and there's a difference, a big difference, between the two. To hunt is to satisfy your hunger. To survive is to not draw attention to what we are, what we do, and protect others in your coven. Remain loyal to them. Though Darla was the eldest, it was Angelus who assumed the role of leader. He guided us as we navigated from one continent to the next, taking particular interests in my patterns, studying me. Killing indiscriminately - being too reckless - was my weakness, he'd said, which is ironic given his reputation, but I didn't care, wasn't much listening either. By then, I was tired of following rules, being reigned in, and it was during that time he introduced me to slayers. He suggested I could learn from them, and I did…but not in the way he was hoping for. I became obsessed with the idea of taking one on, learning that the only way to take one out is to do what's least expected, a lesson Angelus assumed could only be taught after beating the humanity out of me. Not that it was important, but I'd earned Angelus's respect. As for the role Dru played, she helped me through her presence, by offering insight into how necessary it was to be broken like a stallion until I discovered my own way. So you see the tasks a sire has to fulfill are shared by two vampires while the title itself belongs to only one."

"But if you're connected to both of them, how have you managed to pull off this ruse?"

A puzzled look spread across his face momentarily. Glancing behind him, he saw that his wheelchair was conveniently positioned just on the opposite end of the door.

"They were too preoccupied to notice I'd recovered." Gauging by her expression, he'd said quite enough but there was an inquisitive gleam in her eye nonetheless. Raising his free hand to her temple, he patted it gently. "What else is brewing up there?"

"I was thinking about tonight, what it means for us, and I guess, more than anything, I'd like to know where we go from here. I know how cliché that sounds…" Buffy paused, choosing her words carefully. "It's not a question of if, but, when our paths cross again, I can't picture myself going against you. I wouldn't want to."

"Neither would I."

They looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them.

"In the meantime, will you do something for me?"

Without relinquishing her hand, he stood over her. Buffy followed his line of sight to the record player, her face burning with anticipation. Turning the player on, Spike turned toward her again as the first verse echoed off the walls.

_My love must be a kind of blind love_

_I can't see anyone but you_

"Dance with me."

He was a continuum of surprises, making resistance more futile. As evident by her previous attempts to extricate herself from his strong but comforting grasp, any struggle would be to no avail; only now the desire to flee left her body.

Replacing it was an anxiety to follow through.

She'd fantasized about a moment like this, a moment in which she could be Buffy Summers and duty and obligation took a back seat to having a normal, teenage experience, countless times.

She could taste it.

It was inviting, sweet, but her heart continued to flutter.

That he looked at her with soft eyes was even more unnerving, but she followed his lead, gripping his hand tighter as she stood, joining him at the center of a small pathway dividing the room into two sections.

Raising their laced hands between them, Spike feathered the small of her back with his right hand, keeping his eyes trained on hers as she mirrored his embrace.

_Are the stars out tonight?_

_I don't know if it's cloudy or bright_

_I only have eyes for you, dear_

It was hard not to relax as he moved with liquid grace, her heart alternating between racing and resuming a normal, steady rhythm. At first, she'd gazed between their hands, his face, and the door, anticipating the appearance of Giles, Willow, Xander, and Cordelia at any moment.

If they saw what she was doing now, what judgments would they come to? What explanation could she offer them, if she was afforded the opportunity to defend herself?

"We shouldn't expect anyone to walk in on us for awhile."

Buffy looked at him, appreciative but wary of his insight. "Are you sure?"

"The campus is still immersed in wasps. Enjoy the moment."

His tone was gentle and reassuring. Without falling out of step, Buffy rested her head on his chest, admiring his lean, sculpted torso, and closed her eyes as his embrace tightened.

_The moon may be high_

_But I can't see a thing in the sky_

_I only have eyes for you_

Whatever antics Angel and Drusilla were engaged in were distant thoughts as he glanced downward, his attention diverted to the relaxed, content look on her face. His mind wandered.

At first glance, it was the aura surrounding her, not the strength or power she exuded, that captivated him. It was bright and combined the colors of earth beautifully: blue and green strands dipped in chestnut gold.

Slayers he'd encountered in the past didn't illuminate their surroundings. They were hardened by the environments in which they lived. She was different. She amazed him, dazzled him.

Holding her in his arms, inhaling the vanilla fragrance of her hair, it was her innocence that made her even more endearing. It tugged and stretched the strings of his darkened heart until faint memories - memories of William - rose to the surface.

Like the moth falling prey to the flame, being drawn to her was inevitable.

"Was this part of the plan, drawing the enemy in?"

"Not my plan, remember. That's not to say I don't like being close to you. I meant what I said before - you are quite the gem. The world's a more interesting, beautiful, place with you in it. How could it not be?"

"I don't want to be alone." Buffy whispered into his chest.

_I don't know if we're in a garden_

_Or on a crowded avenue_

Reluctantly lifting her head, she grew more anxious, bright eyes staring back at her. He stopped swaying to the melody, instead taking her face in his hands, using his thumb to trace small circles on her warm, flushed skin.

"You won't be."

She blinked back surprise - and emotion - as he brought his lips down to hers softly. The instant their lips touched, all of the insecurities about her path, the consequences of each choice and the destination they would lead to, melted away.

The light reappeared before her, stretching for miles.

Pulling back, Spike rested his forehead against hers. "I promise. You'll never be alone again."

_You are here and so am I_

_Maybe millions of people go by_

_But they all disappear from view_

_And I only have eyes for you_

It was more than his words she committed to memory.

It was the velvet texture of his voice that had the most impact, causing the scars that frightened her to fade as his name was tattooed over her heart in an elegant script.

"When this clears, I imagine you'll want a few minutes with your mates…or they'll seek you out for assurance," He corrected himself as she looked at him anxiously. "I'll wait for you in the courtyard. Meet me there after."

She nodded, holding his gaze for a long moment.

As her head fell to the crook of his neck, Spike breathed heavily through his nose, tilting his chin so that his cheek touched her forehead, sensing her thoughts. Even if all the makings of a fairy tale weren't there, she was the princess floating in the arms of her knight.

* * *

Leaning into James's side, Grace watched the scene unfold from a higher plane and sighed as he wrapped one arm around her waist possessively.

"Looking at them, you'd never imagine they were fighting on opposite sides. They're beautiful together. Do you think they can be as happy as we are now?"

Mimicking the couple beneath them, James ran his thumb across her cheek, reacquainting himself with the soft planes of her face before claiming her mouth in a chaste kiss. The touch was tender and full of emotion.

He'd spent more than forty years offering penance to an unseen entity as the orange timbres engulfed him, and she awaited him with open arms.

He felt complete, whole.

Pulling away, he watched her eyes glisten with similar joy and nodded.

"The beauty of love is finding it in the most unlikely places and when you least expect to. Not everyone finds it, but, for the ones that do, love is the most precious gift- I wouldn't trade it for anything." James paused to take a second look at the couple below, considering his words.

"We have a second chance to correct our mistakes, and now we're giving them the opportunity to save each other as you saved me."

**THE END**


End file.
